


Stay the swords and stay the arrows

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, F/M, German Jon, I failed, I was going angsty tbh, Jon might be dead, Jonsa Historical Event, Ramsay is His Own Warning, Scotland, Scottish Starks, Sexual Content, World War I, but if you want to think he came back thats cool too, he might have been delayed coming home, you'd think uni would teach me to meet deadlines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-05-29 19:32:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15080168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: When she had been a little girl she had loathed the island she had lived on her whole life. Instead of being trapped here, with the sea surrounding her and the few people she had known her whole life, she had wanted to be on the mainland where everything was buzzing and lively, where she would be more likely to find love.But when war broke out, she became grateful for the seclusion the Scottish Isles of Orkney provided.The morning, when a German soldier washed up on the beach, pulse slow but still going, she had been even more grateful. The islanders were rarely bothered by the officers of the army who looked for deserters and traitors. And the Starks had always been a good, law-abiding and charitable family. Having a good name and being from a small island where visitors were few and far between was actually an advantage when it came to hiding an injured German soldier.





	Stay the swords and stay the arrows

When she had been a little girl she had loathed the island that she had lived on her whole life. Instead of being trapped here, with the sea surrounding her and the few people she had known her whole life, she had wanted to be on the mainland where everything was buzzing and lively, where she would be more likely to find love.

But when war broke out, she became grateful for the seclusion the Scottish Isles of Orkney provided.

The morning, when a German soldier washed up on the beach, pulse slow but still going, she had been even more grateful. The islanders were rarely bothered by the officers of the army who looked for deserters and traitors. And the Starks had always been a good, law-abiding and charitable family. Having a good name and being from a small island where visitors were few and far between was actually an advantage when it came to hiding an injured German soldier.

Neither she nor her brother or father could speak German. But she had learned French on the insistence of her mother. Robb had tried to learn it too but had gotten bored of the lessons and concentrated instead on helping father with the farm. And when the soldier had come around, she had managed to communicate with him through French.

His name was Jon. He had a mother back home he had asked to write to. Robb had been reluctant to allow him pen and paper but Sansa trusted him and sneaked the supplies away one night. His smile had been worth deceiving her family for.

He hadn't wanted to fight at all, something Sansa understood all too well. Her uncle Benjen had been a conscientious objector too. He had been arrested in Glasgow at a protest. Father objected to the war too but he had kept his thoughts to himself.

In the weeks that followed, Jon's strength started to return. He would sit up and feed himself while Sansa sat close by and mended her family's clothes and they would converse about the weather or his home. She had come to picture his little village in her head. And his mother, a formidable woman by all accounts, had been actively involved in a feminist group in an attempt to gain the vote for women. Sansa had heard of women on the mainland fighting for such things too, her sister Arya had long since sailed with her husband for the hustle and bustle of Glasgow and actively joined the cause for woman's suffrage. When Sansa received news (because her sister knew better than to tell her father and brother of her escapades), she had to skim over bits when reciting to father, less he should develop even more grey hairs.

Arya had always been more wilful than Sansa. She would have gotten on with Jon quite well, if she could have come home to meet him. But with Gendry sent to fight, Arya had no income to buy passage. And father had told her to stay where she was. The waters were not safe these days with the amount of ships engaging in battle on the east coast. And the west was always more treacherous at the best of times.

When Sansa spoke of her sister, Jon would watch her with those soft grey eyes. It was as if he could feel her sadness too. Perhaps he did understand. Although he didn't have any siblings, it was perhaps the same sadness he felt being parted from his mother. Or maybe a sweetheart back home he had been forced to leave behind. 

Once Sansa had dreamed of falling in love and marrying a handsome young man. She had been a little jealous of Arya for achieving that goal before her. But now she was glad that she had not found anyone, for how could she ever cope with being parted from them for this long? How would she be able to not think about what was happening out there on the fields and in the waters? The news of the Battle of the Somme had reached them not long ago and she felt sick to think that Gendry could have been there. There was no word from him yet. Sansa hoped to never have to know such agonizing uncertainty.

"Could he stay?" she asked her father one night. Ned paused, his eyes were soft as he gave a sympathetic grimace and shook his head.

"We cannot keep him forever Sansa," he replied gently. Sansa opened her mouth to argue, courtesies be damned! Jon hadn't wanted to fight. He wasn't their enemy, just a young man forced into a war he didn't ask for, separated from everyone he knew and loved. He shouldn't be punished for it. Ned held up a hand to stop her as he continued. "We have been lucky that nobody has noticed anything when they come by. But we cannot risk officers finding out. That Baratheon and Bolton lads are especially ones to keep an eye on!" 

"Where would he go?" Sansa asked, casting her eyes down to her broth once more. 

"We'll pay for his passage to the mainland." Robb added. "He will be thought dead by German soldiers, they won't look for him. Give him a false name, tell him to lie low for a while until the fighting is done. It won't be much longer."

"If it isn't safe for Arya to cross the waters to come here, why should he be made to travel?"

"Sansa..." Ned started, his fingers rubbing at his temple.

"If it wasn't for your bad leg they would have dragged you to the front lines!" Sansa snapped at her father before whirling on Robb.

"And they would have taken you too if it wasn't for your heart issues. Would you be so quick to be rid of him when you understood the fear of bullets coming at you from all sides? Jon didn't want to fight, just like Gendry. Wouldn't you want the Germans to treat him kindly if they were to find him?"

"He learns English," Robb said after a moment of tense silence. "And helps out with the animals."

Sansa smiled, agreeing to the terms readily.

***

She knew things would never stay the same forever.

The army officers kept coming back to pick up more men for the fighting. Jon couldn't stay hidden from them for eternity. But she wished he could. She had grown used to his company. She liked seeing him smile at her in the morning, his grey eyes soft and twinkling when they looked at her. It made her heart skip a beat, made her bite her lips to hide her own shy smiles.

She wished it hadn't been Joffrey Baratheon and Ramsay Bolton who had come to the island.

She remembered them from before. They both frightened her, especially Ramsay and his sinister smile. It always felt as though his eyes were undressing her and it made her want to run every time. Robb always moved in front of her when they came around, a silent warning to them both that he would fight them. Most times they left without anything more than a cruel jibe to Ned and Robb about slacking while good men died on the battlefield. Sometimes they would say something crude to Sansa, making her flush.

But this day, she was on her own when they came to call. Only Jon was in the house, napping in his room for he still hadn't quite got his full strength back and working early hours with the animals still drained him. Her father and Robb had gone to the market to trade a couple of cattle and they had to send Arya's birthday present.

"A pretty woman shouldn't be alone," Ramsay's voice had commented lightly, making her jump. By the time she had turned around, they had dismounted their horses and entered the chicken pen, forcing her back against the fence. She had scratched and attempted to bite at them as they wrestled her down into the mud, tearing at her dress as she tried to squirm out of their grip.

"Are you a virgin?" Ramsay drawled. Sansa sobbed before she could stop herself. "You want her cunt or her arse Joff?"

"Flip a coin," Joffrey replied with a sneer, eyes fixed on her breasts as Ramsay cut through her dress to reveal them. "We can swap afterwards."

The gunshot cracked against the air and Sansa gasped in relief as Ramsay leapt off of her. Jon was standing in the doorway, eyes hard as he aimed the shotgun at Ramsay. Joffrey scrambled for his own gun and Jon turned his hand and fired, scraping Joffrey's arm. He turned his aim on Ramsay once more, advancing slowly towards them. Sansa clutched her ruined dress to her chest as she called out to him.

"Jon, don't!" she whispered. His eyes cut to her briefly, the hardness in them making her shiver with fear. She had never imagined him so hard and cold, only seen him as the sweet, lonely man he had been in his bed. "Stop!" she begged again, chancing a frightened look at the two men. "They'll report you!" she hissed.

Jon frowned, his understanding of the language still limited despite their long lessons every afternoon. She shook her head wildly.

"We won't say anything if you give us what we want," Ramsay retorted, smirking at Jon and giving a mocking nod towards Sansa. "Your sweetheart?"

Jon's brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing. Ramsay quirked a brow. 

"He asked you a question!" Joffrey hissed.

"He's French!" Sansa cried out. "He doesn't understand English!" 

"A Frenchman is better than us Joff, can you believe it?" Ramsay reached for her again, tugging her to a stand before Jon could react and pulling her in front of him. She felt the cold metal press against her head and a sob caught in her throat, fear gripping her as she looked to Jon.

"Shoot me," Joffrey said, stepping beside her. "And he'll shoot her." He made a gun sign with his thumb and two fingers, pressing it against her head, making her shrink back. "Try and shoot him and you'll shoot her."

Ramsay laughed behind her. Sansa closed her eyes, feeling the tears trailing down her cheeks. A gunshot echoed around them and Sansa's eyes flew open as Ramsay's laughter died and she felt the spray hitting her hair. She made to look behind her on instinct but Jon shouted out in French.

"No! Don't look Sansa!" And then he grabbed her, pulled her to him as another shot was fired. She sobbed against his neck, wrapping her arms around him and burrowing her face into his shoulder. He slid an arm across her shoulders, and around her waist, holding her close. "You're okay. Its okay," he murmured in French still. "Robb killed them."

"Sansa, are you hurt?" her father asked, his hand grasping her shoulder. She shook her head, cheeks flushing as she realised her naked breasts were pressed against Jon. 

"Wash," Jon commented in English this time, reaching down for her hand. She let him guide her inside and sit her down in a chair. She watched as he and Robb filled the tub with water and then pulled the screen around it so she could undress and bathe in privacy, But as Jon made to leave she gently grasped his shoulder.

"Stay," she pleaded. His eyes widened, darting towards the bath and then, for the briefest of seconds to her ruined dress which barely covers her breasts. "Please."

He swallowed thickly, looking back at the door and then shaking his head, pulling his hand from hers. "Can't," he murmured, his own cheeks colouring. "Not proper."

"I don't want to be alone," she replied in French. "Father will understand when I tell him."

His eyes darted to the door again, his shoulders tense as though he expected Robb or her father to come through and shoot him for even contemplating the idea of staying. He shook his head again, practically running out of the door before she could reach for him and pull him back.

She stepped behind the screen to pull her ruined dress away. When she got into the water, she pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them close as she felt the tears start to burn again.

She could feel the blood drying in her hair and on the side of her face. She didn't want to think about what else was there.

Later, when she was dressed and Robb had fussed over her, insisting she had some tea, her father had apologised for leaving her alone. His eyes cut to Jon then and for the first time, a genuine smile graced his face as he clapped the man on the shoulder.

"You saved my daughter," he stated warmly. "You can stay as long as you like."

Jon frowned, looking towards her in confusion.  She translated for him and despite the trauma of the day, his relieved little smile warmed her heart.

***

She never asked Robb or father what had happened to Ramsay and Joffrey's bodies.

Nobody ever came looking for them so she didn't care. Father assumed they had go off on their own accord, with the clear intention of finding a poor girl to torment. And if they had leave, their fellow officers wouldn't know where they had gone.

Instead, as the war entered its third year, she began to wonder if it would ever end.

"Your English has gotten really good," she commented one evening as they sat and stared out across the ocean. Jon gave her a small smile but she could see the sadness in his eyes even before he spoke.

"I need to go home.I have to see my mother."

"Its too dangerous," Sansa argued.  _I don't want you to go._

He glanced at her, his eyes sad as he cupped her cheek. She felt her eyes close at the touch, her own hand reaching up to keep him in place.

_Please don't go._

"I would like to come back after," he continued softly. Sansa opened her eyes, wondering if he could see her own wish for him to stay reflected in her own. He swallowed thickly, his cheeks flushing. "I would like to come back and ask your father for his blessing to marry you."

The laugh bubbled in her throat before she could stop it. He looked hurt by her outburst and she quickly assured him that it wasn't because she didn't want to marry him.

"I'm no lady Jon Snow," she teased, squeezing his hand. "You don't need my father's permission. He likes you fine. And I would marry you anyway."

She loved his smile when he was truly happy.

_I love you._

"When will you leave?"

"There is a boat tomorrow."

"So soon?" She swallowed the lump in her throat. She forced herself to look away from him because his guilt for leaving will only make her cry.

"I'm sorry."

As she lay in bed that evening, she thought about how it would feel to have him lie her beside her as her husband. Her cheeks heated as she imagined him naked, her hands running through the course hair of his chest as she lay upon it. It was that thought that led to her stepping quietly across to his room.

He had been asleep but it had to have been a light one for his eyes blinked open as the door clicked shut.

"Sansa?" he whispered, sitting up instantly. "Are you alright?"

Before her courage can leave her, she tugged on the ends of her nightdress and pulled it over her head. Jon's eyes widened, zoning in on her breasts and then flickering down to her womanhood. For the brief second before his eyes flew up to hers again, she caught his tongue darting out and swiping his lips.

"Make love to me," she whispered, moving to sit on his bed. She took his hand, her breath catching as she guided it to her breast. Jon's lips parted, no doubt a protest on his lips, before his hand was pressed to her skin. A whimper escaped him, his eyes darting down to her chest once more.

It was all the encouragement she needed to lean down and press her lips to his. She swallowed his moan eagerly, relished the way his hands clutched at her, one at her breast and the other in her hair. She gave a moan of her own as his thumb caressed the side of her breast before slowly moving to her nipple. She broke the kiss, whimpering as he swiped his thumb across the bud gently, puckering it into hardness.

She barely had a chance to register his movement as he sat up and tilted her backwards so he could angle his head and take her nipple between his lips. Her teeth bit into her lip to stifle her cry, her hands flying to his hair to keep him in place. Jon groaned against her, his hands clinging to her back to push her closer to him, helping to steady her so he could keep his lips on her.

Her other breast tingles in anticipation, needing to be touched. She reached back for his hand, pulling it to where she needed him. He groaned, suckling her harder as his thumb stroked her other nipple into hardness.

"Please," she whimpered, her hips moving instinctively. Jon hummed as he kissed a path to her other breast to part his lips over it. "I want..." She gasped as his teeth grazed the bud. "I want..." She whimpered again, her head falling into the crook of his neck in her desperation as her hips keep rolling against him. Even beneath his covers, she can feel his hardness. "Take me!""

He wrenched away from her breast and flipped them over. Kicking the covers off of him, he moved to settle between her thighs. She swallowed thickly, eyes fluttering shut as she prepared for the pain of him entering her. Yet instead, all she felt was his lips between her breasts, tracing a path down, down,  _down._

She jerked up on her elbows, eyes widening as she realised how close he was to her most intimate place. She wondered what he was doing and she was about to ask him when his hands gently parted her thighs and his tongue swiped through her.

"What?" she moaned as he hooked his hands under her knees and pulled her to meet his mouth. His lips closed over something at the top of her womanhood and Sansa choked back her words for a brief second as she was overcome with pleasure. She could feel Jon's smile against her and her cheeks heated again as she thought about his face right there. She licked her lips, gathering her wits. "What are you doing?" she gasped out eventually, her hips beginning to rise on instinct.

"Kissing you," he responded, the breath of his words making her shiver and moan beneath him.

Her head tossed against the pillow, her hands clenching and unclenching in the sheets as his tongue licked and pressed against her, his lips closed over the little nub again, giving a light suck which made Sansa bite against the pillow to swallow her pleasured cry.

His mouth became even more insistent, his hands gripping her tightly as he worked. She felt her legs beginning to quiver, fighting to shut against him as her hips moved erratically against his face and her moans increased in frequency and volume.

Her body tensed, her mouth parting in a silent scream before she groaned and her body fell limp against the bed again. Jon pressed another kiss against her, making her whimper, shocked at how much she wants him to do that again already.

He pressed against her, his lips kissing her temple once more and Sansa blinked up at him, giving him a reassuring smile.

There was a slight pinch when he entered her, making her bite into his shoulder to hide her groan of discomfort. He stilled when he pushed through her barrier, a throaty groan vibrating in his throat.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded, already feeling the sting fade and only delightful fullness in its place. "You can move."

He started slowly, moving back to watch her face as he gave tentative rolls of his hips. She felt him exhale against her neck, the muscles of his back clenching beneath her fingertips as he tried to hold back his own pleasure to ensure hers. She won't get there again, she knows. Her body is still trying to get used to the newness of this, her mind distracted with how she should move. But she doesn't mind not peaking again. Having him here, feeling him quiver beneath her hands, hear him whimper softly into her neck and feel his own hands clutch at her cheek to turn her head towards him for a messy kiss. That made her content enough.

His movements began to increase as he gave a sharp exhale through his nose, his hand slamming down on the sheet above her head. She felt him begin to move away and without thinking of the consequences, only how much she needs him, she locked her legs around his waist and pulled him back to her. He barely finished a horrified gasp of her name before he tensed, his hips rutting into her a few more times as he spent inside of her.

"I shouldn't have!" he gasped, moving back and staring at where she can feel his seed leaking. 

"I don't care," she assured him, reaching for him once more. She tugged him down to kiss him again before pushing his head to encourage him to lie on her chest. "We'll be married soon anyway."

The tension left him then, she felt the curve of his lips against her skin. "As soon as I return." He moved to kiss her again. "I promise."

_Make the war end. Make it end so he can be safe and return to me._

***

Sometimes, she thought he might still appear at the harbour some morning. He would sweep her up in his arms, apologise for making her wait and rush her to the church to marry her as he had promised.

Even when her son was born, she still told herself that he could have been delayed with his mother.

Maybe he didn't have time to write.

Maybe,when the war was still going on letters were being read to ensure there were no spies so he couldn't write to her at all.

_Make the war end. Let him come back to me and his son._

And when the war ended, she told herself that he would come soon enough. Things were still moving slowly in the aftermath of the devastation. But he would come back.

He had promised.

 


End file.
